Bringer Of Death
by P.L.S
Summary: Harry Potter didn't have the killing curse turned on him, nor did Neville Longbottom. So Dumbledore takes the one who no one is likely to miss at the age of ten and creates the weapon that the Dark Lord will be vanquished by.
1. Default Chapter

_Title: Bringer Of Death  
  
Author: P.L.S.  
  
Rating: Medium to Mild Homemade Salsa  
  
Warnings: General, A/U, Mild Language, Charactor Deaths  
  
Summery: Harry Potter didn't have the killing curse turned on him, nor did Neville Longbottom. So Dumbledore takes the one who no one is likely to miss at the age of ten and creates the weapon that the Dark Lord will be vanquished by.  
  
Disclaimers:I don't own Harry Potter or anything assossiated with the books and movies.  
  
Author Notes: I just wanted to see if there was another way to complete the prophesy without having Voldemort fall out of power for thirteen years. As it turns out there is because Voldemort isn't a potions master, but this Harry is._

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The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...  
  
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...  
  
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...  
  
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...  
  
The one who has the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...  
  
(The Prophesy- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)  
  
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I shouldn't have to yell at you like that. snarled Snape at his young protégé. The sullen youth who was fast becoming as pessimistic and hard to reach as his teacher just gazed at the floor. He refused to look up into the angry black eyes of the man who was his protector and professor. Even his breathing refused to give anything away. It was steady, near silent, and calm, just like he was taught. Only his eyes still could spill his emotions for a skilled person too read. For some reason only the youth's eyes were pure still.  
  
I know, sir. said the young man's steady tenor. Blank, it was almost frustrating for Snape because he needed to know what was going on in the boy's head. For two years they hid in plain sight, blending in effortlessly with Voldemort's followers. Both had killed to keep their cover and helped in interrogations, tortures, and other required tasks of the mid ranking Death Eaters. It helped that both were occlumancers, Snape was already a skilled potions maker and his student had become the perfect app entice-assistant as if he was used to just flowing into roles he had to play. But today was the first real close call they had come up in six months.  
  
You nearly had a nervous breakdown. stated Snape. The boy nodded and sighed, showing the first emotion since the incident. They had been told to observe a recording of a playground of a muggle grade school. Snape saw his protégé stiffen as it played, but thought nothing of it. It wasn't until he saw the smallest boy in the playground being picked on, laughed at, then almost beaten to a pulp that he saw the tears and the rage on the boy's face. At the very end the bell rang and as the small boy struggled to get to class he noted the boy's magic healing and aiding the boy in his walk. By the time he reached the door he was late but totally healed. The only sign he was beaten up were the stains and rips in his ill fitting clothes.  
  
Yes, sir. responded the youth. Snape was frustrated, indeed. He just couldn't understand why that scene had set off the boy. Sure, it wasn't pleasant to see a young wizard treated like that, but it was by far the kindest thing they had seen in a few weeks. However, the youth almost went catatonic and waves of emotion spilled out. The boy's mental walls shattered and it was all Snape could do to get him back here without the boy ending up in a duel or in an accident of some sort. It didn't make any sense at all, at least not that Snape could see.  
  
You do recall that if you need to talk to me, I'm here? asked Snape. Now the boy reacted. He looked up, confused but there was such raw pain in the boy's eyes that it seemed he was the one picked on, and not the child in the recording.  
  
inquired the boy, the once unfluctuating tone was now shaky and Snape could sense that the boy was on the verge of a breakdown of some kind. If that happened, who knew how long it would take for them to refortify the youth's mind so that they could function again. It might take as little as twenty-four hours, or as long as two months. Time was something they did not have; events were speeding up and no one knew what the next day would bring.  
  
What happened to make you lose your control? The boy's body was now shaking and Snape did the one thing he never thought that he would have to do, he pulled the boy into an embrace and sat down on the sofa with the boy leaning into him, still shaking. The young man let out a breath and sucked in a deep breath to replace it. Snape had never seen his protégé like this and was fast becoming scared for the youth who was still so slight that he came across as a child many times. It was disturbing to see the normally stoic and stoney faced young man tremble and feel the soft, warm drip of silent tears.  
  
That... The child in the recording, I know him. said the now quivering voice. Snape widened his eyes, he was told that the boy had no real family or friends to leave behind when he took on the child as his ward. It was why he never brought up the past or anything else about the boy, he had no wish to make the quiet youth relive what might have been very painful times. Now he was kicking himself for such foolish actions. If the boy had only told him, or if they had hashed out the child's past, no matter how pain filled, they wouldn't be in this situation. But how did his young charge know the child?  
  
Who is he? asked Snape. The young man's body stiffened. His breathing also stopped. Snape tightened his arm about the youth, and he had a really bad feeling about the answer. A pregnant silence reigned as Snape refused to repeat his question, and the boy needed to collect himself enough to answer.  
  
His name was Harold James Potter, who was the unwanted ward of his uncle and aunt. answered the youth after a minute or two. Snape looked down at the boy, he knew that the Potters had died. It wasn't an event that he was particularly broken up about, after all James Potter was a bully in school and certainly didn't grow up any in the two years he lived after leaving Hogwarts. Lily Evans who became Lily Potter soon after she too left school wasn't much better in some ways. She was a muggle-born who was just too pompous and sure of her moral superiority over him to accept his apology for being an idiot in school. Both had died in an attack headed up by one of two teams sent out on All Hollow's Eve by Voldemort. The teams were dispatched to get rid of two married auror couples who were also responsible for three raids on several gathering points. The Longbottoms were the other couple and they too were killed, and again Snape felt very little remorse. He was growing confused, could there have been a Potter child who escaped death with his parents and the burning of the home the two were living in? It was possible, even if it was as unlikely as Voldemort waking up one day and declaring the whole civil war was a misunderstanding and he wanted peace and liked muggles.  
  
How did you know him? asked Snape in a soft voice. The boy sighed deeply and then spoke.  
  
He lived in Little Whining with his mother's spiteful sister and her family, who thought they could starve and beat the magic out of him. The young man gave a cynical laugh, As you saw, this only served to help him to grow up faster and strengthen the grasp he had on his magic even if he didn't know it was magic at the time. He was told his father was a drunk and that it was his parents' fault they died in a car crash. He was also shown that he was unworthy of most things that his cousin, who was his age, received. He died on Halloween when he was ten years old. The youth sighed and shuddered, He died the day that marked the tenth anniversary of his parents' deaths.  
  
What happened? asked Snape. The youth stood and walked to a scrying mirror that hung next to the front door of their shared quarters. His eyes were bright with tears and his face was red and miserable looking. Snape watched the boy study his reflection with an intensity he had only seen the youth show in his potions studies and in life and death situations. He was almost surprised as the green eyes clouded with anger and then were clenched tightly closed. The boy sucked in a breath with his nose and then let it out in a sigh.  
  
A wizard was sent to find out why the supposedly muggle home was seeing so many signs of controlled magic. They searched, and found their quarry in a cupboard under the stairs of the quaint suburban home, and deciding that the boy was too valuable to leave in the care of ignorant muggle, he was taken as the household slumbered. The boy became the youngest trainee of the Order of the Phoenix, Snape felt his eyes widen in shock as the youth continued on, and he was given a new name, a new world, and a mission to save the world that would have left him in the care of his aunt and uncle forever if they hadn't found out about his power. He figured out later on that they knew he wouldn't survive. The young man sighed heavily, But he took it in stride, after all, who was going to miss someone who had only been a burden and who only knew of his parents because of his training to deal with dementors. The youth gave another bitter laugh, That's why, even if my patronous is strong, it takes me so long to cast it if I don't react fast enough. I see and hear them dying and I guess I secretly don't want to get rid of the one thing that gave me my first glimpse of the life I could have had. Selfish, right? asked Snape's protégé who hugged himself and looked like a lost child, despite being sixteen. Snape stood up and hugged the boy.  
  
No, not selfish, never that. murmured the teacher. The boy hugged him back and Snape could feel the damp spots of fresh tears.  
  
Thank you. whispered the boy.  
  
We should have talked about this earlier. I'm sorry that I didn't think ahead well enough to anticipate that something like this might happen. I'm sorry I didn't question you on your past. said Snape. The boy looked up at him in surprise.  
  
Sir? This isn't your fault. How could it be? The youth looked truly perplexed.  
  
It is because I'm your guardian and teacher. I know better than my actions showed, I shouldn't have just assumed you would talk if there was something that troubled you. Snape looked up at the ceiling, I know better than to just trust that Dumbledore was being honest with me. He looked back into the boy's now sorrowful eyes, I'm your master of this apprenticeship, and we both have been lax in a few essential things.  
  
I don't understand. said the youth, perplexed and a bit weary.  
  
Trust, for one. You need to know you can trust me in all things, and I need to trust you in the same way. Unfortunately, I have set a wretched example and like anyone else in your position you followed it. Snape pulled the young man back to the sofa and smiled ruefully, We trust each other with our lives everyday, yet until forced to, we don't trust each other with our thoughts, feelings, and memories. Does that sound healthy to you?  
  
No, sir. The youth smiled and shook his head, It sounds pretty messed up when you put it that way.  
  
Exactly. For now, we'll just do our best to cope with the aftermath of today. Tomorrow we will finish up on the Strengthening Solution and you will create the requested batch of healing potions while I work on the Restorative Drought.  
  
Yes, sir. Can you help me rebuild my shields? I could feel them all crash down before, and I'm not sure how to start. asked the young man with a smile. Snape nodded.  
  
How did you start to build them?asked Snape carefully.  
  
I don't know, I guess they started when Mr. Moody started teaching me Occlumency. I don't remember actively putting them up, only wanting to get him out of my head. Snape's protégé looked cool and a bit bitter again. Snape found himself wanting to see the boy's honest smile again, even if he knew that the boy couldn't survive his lot in life if he was still so open and honest with his emotions.  
  
Okay, come, if we're going to do this we'll need room. said Snape and they left their rooms for the only room that was clear of breakables and dangerous obstacles, a communal dining area. It took the rest of the night, but together they built up the youth's mental walls and Snape taught the young occlumencer a fail safe to ensure that his walls wouldn't collapse again. It was one a.m. before they were able to get any rest.

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Snape woke to silence and went to the labs as soon as he was dressed. There he found his protégé was at least two hours into making a Pepper-up Potion and had prepared ingredients for several other concoctions he was to make, which meant that he had to had been awake for four hours.  
  
Good morning, sir. said the young man in a easy and friendly tone, as usual. Snape nodded.  
  
You didn't get much sleep, did you. stated Snape and he frowned, and saw that the clock read 7.12'  
  
I'm afraid not. Have you eaten yet, sir? asked the boy, and Snape scowled. He was not in the mood for his student to be changing subjects and trying to evade having to tell his master his problems. The boy, however, didn't see the change of expression because he was back to watching the cauldron and adding powdered Dragon's Breath blossoms as he stirred counterclockwise with an iron spoon. He let out a breath and started in on his big project of the day, after he checked on the Strengthening Solution and the batch of Polyjuice he had brewing. He knew that he should force his student to tell him just why he woke at three in the morning, but he decided it wasn't worth a spoiled potion or worse.  
  
It was well past lunchtime before the two potion makers even saw another soul. Both forgot about eating as they became engrossed in their very intense work. They also ignored the knocking at the laboratory door, house elves were forbidden from the room and thus they had no clue about the arrival of Lord Voldemort until the Dark Lord entered the suite of rooms and cleared his throat, then laughed as both master and student told the other to get a drink of water in identical distracted tones. It was the laugh that got their attention. Both were careful to stop what they were doing before turning to see him, which impressed Voldemort and was a testament to how skilled his two potion makers were.  
  
My Lord. both murmured in reverent tones, but Voldemort gave a dismissive wave of his hand.  
  
Enough of that. I just came to check on you both. I've been hearing odd rumors and wanted to see your student for myself, Severus. Snape nodded his head.  
  
May I ask what rumors have been spreading? asked Snape carefully, and Voldemort regarded him for a moment.  
  
Yes, you should know. Your student's famed composure shattered while watching a recording that I sent ahead, and you had to pull him out of the meeting because with his composure, his control over his magic failed. Is that right? asked Voldemort, Snape could feel the Dark Lord's natural legelimancy start to try to pick his mind.  
  
It is true, my Lord. I'm afraid that it was of something that he had first hand experience in, and had tried to forget. said Snape and the youth was staring at the floor now. The boy was truly ashamed of his actions. Voldemort arched an eyebrow.  
  
Young man, you could relate to the boy in the recording? he asked in a very intrigued voice. The boy wouldn't meet Voldemort's eyes, but nodded, Tell me about it.  
  
he started, but then stopped and tried to think about what he was going to say, Well, I was always the smallest kid, the odd one. Kids were never very accepting, but now that I think about it, maybe they could feel the fact that I was different, not normal like them. It wasn't like my cousin ever helped matters, my aunt and uncle slyly encouraged him to beat me up and made sure I knew I was just a drain and worthless. He was the kid in school with the best toys, so of course the rest of the kids followed his lead. The youth shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself, I don't know, everything just compounded upon me just before the Department of Misuse of Magic found me and placed me in that crèche school where Master Snape found me. The boy gave a mirthless laugh and looked Voldemort in the eyes, I was deemed to dangerous to be around muggles, then later on they said I couldn't go to Hogwarts, where my name had been down since birth. That was the final kick in the face, the fact that even the bloody government didn't trust me. The boy's voice was shaking again and he looked lost again. Snape looked at Voldemort who seemed really distraught. I never let it get to me, at least until I saw that recording. It was like that was the last straw and I just couldn't keep telling myself, it's no big deal' and thinking that I could handle it.  
  
Do you want revenge? asked Voldemort with an edge of anger to his voice, but the anger was not directed at the youth. The young man smiled and it was and honest smile, though it was sad in spirit.  
  
No, my Lord. I do not want revenge, there is nothing to get revenge for. said the boy getting an incredulous look from both Snape and Voldemort. He chuckled, That which does not kill me, makes me stronger. Neiztche. And as you can see, I'm very much alive, and I am probably better for the torment. Besides, there is always the rule of thirds to think about.  
  
I see. said Voldemort, wise, but I don't agree. The boy frowned.  
  
I understand, my Lord. But will you allow me to hold my own opinions on this matter? asked the boy respectfully. Voldemort studied the youth and sighed.  
  
As this is a personal matter, yes. It is yours to deal with and think about however you wish. I did the exact opposite of you though.  
  
I see, but that is why you are the Dark Lord and I am an apprentice to a potions master. We both have very different ways of dealing with life and it's pitfalls. If you don't mind my asking, who was the boy you recorded?  
  
He was a child who caught my attention and seemed to be a worthy recruit, even if his parents were aurors who were too foolish to hide once word was out that I had ordered their deaths. Dumbledore made some mistakes and disregarded the living will of the child's mother, causing the boy to grow up in a situation we both can relate to. Voldemort looked out the small window that was near the ceiling, He'd be a little older than you, but he vanished just as I was about to make my move and offer him a new home. I'm still looking for him, it was the reason I had everyone with the mark or at least connected to someone with the mark view the recording.  
  
I understand, my Lord. But it sounds like your Peter Pan to us Lost Boys. he said the last part with a mischievous smile and Voldemort looked at him then laughed. The humor was totally lost on Snape though.  
  
Yes, yes. It does, doesn't it? Well, at least we won't have to worry about Captain Hook. Severus, your apprentice has a sense of humor that is very refreshing. Your name has slipped my mind again, boy.  
  
Daniel King, my Lord. answered the boy, and Voldemort nodded.  
  
Yes. If you ever get tired of making potions, tell me. A bright youth like you could find many doors opening if he asks the right person. said Voldemort. The boy smirked and raised his eyebrows.  
  
My Lord, you can't afford to give up any of your potion makers. All of us are all ready doing the work of two, three, or even four in Master Snape's case, and everyday more requests for our products jumps exponentially. If anything, you should be pressing me to stay at Master Snape's side, and learn every bit he knows, then to train another.  
  
This is a serious problem, why hasn't anyone brought it up? Voldemort frowned and turned to Snape who was scowling.  
  
It isn't as bad as he makes it sound, and all of your potions masters have now taken on apprentices. I will admit, we don't have so many that, if a compound where a laboratory was present was taken we could recover right away. However, all of us are doing our best to change that. My Lord, you must remember that potions mastery is not a common achievement even in days of peace. In days of strife, it only seems to become rarer. Having as many potions masters and apprenticing makers as you do, is nothing less than a miracle. Voldemort obviously didn't like the answer, but had to agree with it.  
  
Is there anyway to mass-produce some of the more common potions? asked Voldemort after thinking it over for a minute. Snape shook his head.  
  
No, my Lord. The most commonly needed potions are medicinal, and complicated enough that one slip in a mass-production process would cripple your organization. The potions requested are not like cleaning supplies where a mistake is masked by intention. Most healing potions are like scales balanced between bad tasting soup and lethal poison.  
  
I see. Voldemort sighed and looked quite resigned to the situation. He then studied the two before him, searching for something that neither understood.  
  
You have taught the boy Occlumency? asked Voldemort. Snape nodded.  
  
He was a very apt pupil. answered Snape and Voldemort nodded.  
  
It would seem, he's very skilled. A natural? Snape nodded at Voldemort's question.  
  
Yes, my Lord. For some skills he only needs to be put in a situation where they are needed, such was the case in his learning occlumency. Voldemort looked mildly impressed.  
  
You always were the best at finding the hidden gems, Severus. And you, young Daniel, I'm looking forward to your growth into an adult wizard. I'm afraid I've stayed long enough. Severus, you and your apprentice must visit me sometime, and not just for business. It is a shame you are both skilled in potions, I miss having your quick and dry wit by my side. And young Daniel made an excellent point that I could not afford to have you out of your laboratory for long.  
  
With that Voldemort swept out of the laboratory as quickly as he came and both went back to work without a word exchanged.

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After a month of nonstop work, the requests suddenly stopped and only a few potions that were still far beyond Snape's protégé to even assist with were left. The youth spent his days studying, preparing potions that were simple and helpful, and practicing everything he had been taught since he was ten. It didn't take a week before Snape got frustrated with having the boy underfoot and sent him off to visit Voldemort. The young man didn't take offense to being kicked out, he just accepted that it was his teacher's prerogative and that Snape was rather tetchy when his potions were blowing up and there was nothing he could do but try again.  
  
When Voldemort received him he read the letter from Snape asked the boy about his take on his teacher and then laughed and nodded.  
  
Of course, Severus has always been like that. Once he even yelled at me for so long my ears were ringing then kicked me out, not that I didn't earn it. But what did you do, Daniel? Voldemort smirked at the boy's understanding smile.  
  
I'm not skilled enough to help him in his efforts with those potions, so for the past week I've just been trying to hone the skills I do have. Master Snape had enough forethought to get rid of me before he started to really take out his frustrations on me, well no more than he already had. Voldemort nodded.  
  
I wonder if old age is softening the man. The youth couldn't help but laugh at the thought of his guardian being anything less than a prickly and cold pillar. It was just one of the few things in life he could count on, the sky was blue, the Sahara was dry, and Snape, even if he did love and care, was a callous jerk to almost everyone on the face of the Earth. Voldemort gestured for him to stand by his left hand side and just observe.  
  
Watching Voldemort go through the business of running an army was interesting and kept the boy's mind occupied as everything was observed, cataloged, and then referenced with what he already knew. It was fascinating the way Voldemort's mind worked and ran circles around those who served him. He could easily see why Snape took the mark in the first place, Voldemort was one of the very few in the world who could have challenged the snarky savant mentally. So, why does he put up with me?' wondered the boy.  
  
In all reality, he knew he was nowhere near as intelligent as his guardian, he didn't have that type of dark sarcastic wit that Snape did, and other than their hair color and pallor they had nothing in common. So why did his guardian spend so much time and effort in teaching him, berating him, and even just paying attention to him? He was jerked from his thoughts by a door slamming open and pain filled groans.  
  
Several cloaked and masked Death Eaters drug in a middle aged man in what looked like muggle clothing, but one could never be sure when they were as torn and bloodied up as this man's clothes were. He frowned as he watched the man's captors punish him with brute force for each unanswered question. It was obvious that the man was trained not to talk and had no real overwhelming fear of what would happen. Chances were he made his peace and gave up on living as soon as he was captured. The youth was not amused when they used the Imperious to entertain themselves and humiliate the man nor was he impressed when they started to use the Crucious on him. Torture for information was always distasteful to him, even more so when they were trying to break a soul that was willing to shuffle of this mortal coil for the greater good' as they called it. But he learned to keep his mouth shut very early on, and so he was very silent as the more menacing aspects of Voldemort's court took place.  
  
As the process went on, the boy jumped as Voldemort addressed him, Daniel, you are as still as a grave.  
  
I'm sorry, my Lord. I didn't realize you wanted me to do anything. said the young man as respectfully as he could.  
  
Nothing to apologize for, but I am curious as to your reasons for being almost statuesque when the rest of my court derives entertainment from this.  
  
May I speak freely? asked the boy. Voldemort looked interested and nodded. I find it crass and distasteful, my Lord. answered the young man with a hint of disgust in his voice. Voldemort looked surprised.  
  
  
  
Yes. Torture is a tool to be wielded by a calm and detached interrogator, not a toy to please the sadistic and weak minded. Voldemort gave the youth a long look.  
  
So those who derive entertainment from watching this mudblood suffer are weak minded?  
  
Anyone who needs to resort to such measures sullies and maligns himself, my Lord. It is the sport of bullies, to need to subjugate another to prove your worth. said the boy with a perfectly blank face. The hall was silent, but for the heaving breaths of the man who was on the floor.  
  
And if I said I derived entertainment from this? asked Voldemort with an odd lilt to his voice.  
  
My Lord, you are my master, not the other way around. However, growing up as I did, I learned that the truly weak need to feel powerful by making others feel inferior, while the strongest ignored those who were beneath them. Voldemort looked as if there was rage simmering under the surface but the boy continued on, In your case, I can see how this act is needed, but still have reservations. If it was just the information you needed, you have a potion maker at your side who has learned the art of interrogation with truth serums and befuddlement potions. The youth sneered at the shivering and tortured form, The man upon the floor knew that as well, and thus has become resigned to his fate. Unless you have a loved one or a good enough threat, he will be good for nothing but death. I sincerely hope you did not intend him to go free, that would be a mistake of the greatest kind.  
  
And what kind of mistake would that be? asked Voldemort.  
  
A living martyr. You know as well as I do that unless there is some greater reason, such as an imbedded command signaled by a spell or word, he will do nothing but anger your enemies to do the same to your people, and he himself will not rest until he kills every last one of us in this room. You are the Dark Lord because you do not make such errors in judgment. said the boy coolly. Voldemort smirked.  
  
You are indeed Severus's protégé. Very well, take the breathing corpse away. The oubliette should be a perfect place for his mortal body to rest. Voldemort gave the boy a look that he couldn't interpret and went back to the business of the court and commanding the darker forces of the magical world. The day was filled with things like reports from the vampires and dementors, an envoy from Bulgaria, and reports from Voldemort's agents, spies, and officials. The youth again took up his observations and learning from the way Voldemort held the reigns on his forces. Once in a while things would strike him a amusing and he'd snort or smirk, but mostly he studied not only Voldemort, but his senior Death Eaters and the more important of the people who came and went.

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As the days went on the boy became more accustomed to court life, but was longing for his potions studies with his guardian. He was learning in the court and in his meals with the Dark Lord, but more and more he wanted to be alone with a iron cauldron and a new potion to try to create. He was stunned at Voldemort's perception of the matter and his understanding, he even confided that Snape had been the same way during his stay at Voldemort's right hand, where the boy now stood. He was amused to find that as soon as other Death Eaters found out who his teacher was they gave him a wide berth and were very careful of how they treated him. the youth asked Voldemort about it once and only got the Dark Lord's deep rolling laughter for an answer.  
  
Then of course the next day he bumped into a Death Eater as he was turning the corner, looking for something to do since Voldemort was supervising the information extraction and death of a few captured aurors and hit wizards.  
  
he said as he started to try to get up, but the man pulled up his mask and looked quite angry. The young man on the floor was stunned at the pure arrogance on the other youth's face, for the one he bumped into didn't look to be much older than eighteen.  
  
You should watch where you are going. sneered the blond Death Eater, looking for all the world like Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's better and powerful servants.  
  
Eh, are you related to Mr. Malfoy? asked the boy with a puzzled look. The other looked irritated.  
  
Yes, I am. And who might you be? he asked, his attitude was slowly starting to wear on the young potion maker. Luckily, Snape's student knew how to hide his annoyance. He got to his feet and smiled.  
  
I'm Daniel, sorry about running into you like that. I was too distracted. The blond's face softened a bit and he nodded.  
  
I see. No surname, just Daniel?  
  
You haven't even told me your name yet. protested the darker boy with a hint of a childish smile.  
  
You haven't asked. But since you are just about to apologize for that faux paux, my name is Draco Malfoy.  
  
Okay, my last name is King. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know if there is a potions laboratory on site, would you? asked the boy. Draco frowned.  
  
No, I don't think there is. You could always floo to another compound or owl for the potion you need. suggested Draco as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The youth shook his head and sighed.  
  
My teacher is going to be royally pissed off with me. It's been weeks since my last potion. he groaned out the last sentence looking for all the world like a normal thirteen or fourteen year old. Draco frowned.  
  
Why in the world are you here if you are in a potions apprenticeship? asked Draco in an annoyed tone of voice.  
  
Well, partly so my teacher wouldn't murder me. You see he's working on a few very volatile and tetchy potions, and he gets to be very explosive himself when his cauldrons keep blowing up for reasons he can't control. I was also sent here because the Dark Lord requested that one of us visit sometime, and my master decided to saddle him with the duty of baby-sitting me until I'm called back. Daniel started to walk to the main hall, and Draco walked with him.  
  
Sounds like your teacher has almost no respect for our Lord. Daniel laughed at the observation.  
  
Master Snape has absolute respect for Lord Voldemort. It's just potions are his first love, and may God help the one who gets in the way of him and his first love. Lord Voldemort knows and understands my teacher's passion, and keeps the hell away unless it's absolutely required or if he knows the coast is clear. The Dark Lord sees the power my teacher has, but does nothing to reign him in because he has no need to. Same with me, no ambition to rule or be a Dark Lord myself, I really just want to become a potions master like Master Snape, and make a name for myself in the research and development area of my field. Draco nodded at the logical explanation.  
  
Draco paused in his thoughts, Wait a minute, did you say Master Snape? The boy nodded.  
  
Yes, Severus Snape is my teacher. Draco scowled.  
  
My bloody godfather, he hasn't even written one blasted letter letting me know he was alive in two years. He just vanished and now you tell me he's been your teacher. grumbled Draco and the other boy laughed.  
  
Oh, man. He really can be a right idiot about human relations, no doubt in his mind he thinks that the entire world can stop when he says it should. The youth's green eyes were sparkling and shining with good humor, and Draco found it slightly contagious. His dark mood was slowly lifting with each small smile and laugh from the potion maker.  
  
Well, I guess I can forgive him for forgetting two years worth of presents and letters. shrugged Draco and the boy sighed.  
  
You know you do sound right spoiled. Draco looked at the boy who was walking slightly ahead of him. No one had ever dared tell a Malfoy that.  
  
Do you have a death wish? asked Draco and the other boy stopped and caught him in his hypnotic emerald gaze. Draco couldn't break away and felt himself being pulled apart like a dissected creature under study. The youth's slight pensive frown turned into a confident smirk.  
  
You were saying? Draco was very unnerved by the show of pure power and skill from the slight and frail looking student of his godfather's. He had no idea how the boy did that to him, only that he was now adding the boy to the very short list of people he feared and respected.   
  
King, you are very frightening for a kid. said Draco and the boy laughed.  
  
I'm sixteen, and I'm hardly a kid. Growing up like I did kind of makes you lose you innocence and childhood pretty quick. said the dark haired boy as he started to walk forward again. Draco watched him as the boy walked down the hall and vanished around a corner.  
  
He's sixteen?

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Draco pondered over the mystery of Daniel King for a week before writing his godfather about his protégé. He was growing more and more confused as he heard more and more about King. He protested the torture of innocents, but was a skilled interrogator and torturer in his own right. He could stand up to the Dark Lord and speak his mind and not get the Crutcious Curse placed on him if he disagreed with Lord Voldemort, but he had suffered under the curse for ten minutes without crying out or going mad. Some claimed he could read minds and was undefeated in dueling. He was a skilled potions maker near master level and he still used every minute he had free to study for his mastery. He was confident, sarcastic, sincere, kind, cruel, unsure of himself, and confusing as hell to try to understand.  
  
The letter he got in response from the potions master didn't help any, it just told about the circumstances that Severus Snape found Daniel King and that he was an adequate' student. It also demanded that Draco not disturb him as he was about to finish the last steps in making one of the world's most difficult potions. Of course, that was accompanied by a page of scathing commentary and made Draco extra grateful that he didn't floo his godfather. He could understand why Daniel was sent away while Snape made his potions.  
  
He even watched the youth, who was amazingly the same age as the Malfoy heir, during his times in the upper court of Lord Voldemort. The young man was stoic, cold as stone, and very effective in whatever task that the Dark Lord gave him, he was very much like a younger version of his godfather but still held something captivating that was pure Daniel King. King, Draco decided, was a powerful and deeply frightening wizard, but still had no real lust for being anything more than what he was already. Not that he couldn't become something like the Dark Lord if he wanted, charisma was simmering under the boy's frail and gentle facade and he had those amazing green emeralds for eyes that Draco knew could hold millions helpless under his gaze.   
  
The boy showed no mercy in whatever he did, only perspicacious restraint and carefully calculated moves. It was like King had no weaknesses to exploit nor did he have any skeletons or hubris to expose. King could also speak freely to the Dark Lord at any time, something his father said only Snape was allowed to do. King used this privilege with great care and with even more cunning, a word in the right place often enhanced the Lord's plans or brought to light a fact or thought that sealed the doom of the incompetent or the overly egotistical. Draco's father also recalled a time when it was Severus Snape who was culling the ranks of the Death Eaters, making Draco wonder if Daniel King was more to his godfather than protégé, maybe a bastard or hidden son?  
  
When Severus Snape suddenly stood by the Dark Lord's right with King on the Lord's left, Draco's thoughts on the mystery became very muddled, the boy had no obvious familial link to his godfather. While they did both have skin of snowy pallor, which only looked paler with them both in inky black robes, and long dark hair tied at the backs of their necks, the differences were obvious. King was short where Snape was tall, and had a frail doll-like appearance where Snape only looked formidable and deadly. Both had eyes that could steel breath, enchant audiences, and cause victims to either quake in fear or shiver with desire. One set in emerald, the other in obsidian, both brimming with intelligence, charisma, and passion. How incredibly lucky was Lord Voldemort to have the both of them in service to him! Draco was sure that together they would be the ones to decide the outcome of the civil war.  
  
Draco was not the only one thinking along the same lines, all over the room senior and mid ranking Death Eaters were becoming more assured of victory and were in awe of the wizards flanking their Lord as well as with their Lord himself.

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Snape was very pleased with his young charge, in the two months he had left him to Voldemort's courts, he had become the very wizard that Snape knew he could be. And his skills in every area had become refined, subtle, and very much improved. He had been sent recordings every once in a while by the Dark Lord, that he knew the boy wasn't aware of. A few were of the boy setting up a laboratory and brewing potions of every type, including more than a few master level brews. Not one was flawed. One was of an interrogation where the boy broke a very stubborn and high ranking hit wizard with almost no blood shed, not a potion used, and very liberal use of his eyes and voice. Another was of a day in court where the boy very slyly helped the Dark Lord cull his ranks and get rid of more than a few idiots who Snape knew should never had been allowed in the upper court. The last was of an honor duel that his protégé was challenged to, his student won and had killed the unfortunate Death Eater in a very slow and pain filled manner before the court with such coldness that he was sure that the boy had ice in his veins. There was a note that accompanied that particular recording.  
  
_He will never be challenged again, no one dares to stand against him. The only ones that dare to look on him without fear are those who did not witness the spectacle, those who are psychotic, and me. How did you find this delightful and deadly monster who so very much enhances this court? I've only seen one other inspire such fear and reverence without being a challenge to my authority. Do you recall the time that Regelus Black dared to challenge you to an honor duel within the upper court?  
LV  
  
_Of course he did, he had single handily skinned the younger version of his school time bully alive then had the skin painfully re-grown. The whelp survived but was a drooling gibbering lump of flesh who became the martyr that the old widow Black wanted both her sons to become. He wondered what was the greater mercy, the grizzly death given by his protégé or the pain and terror induced madness that gave Black's sympathizers the chance to make him a martyr. In the end he decided both were equally horrific punishments and that his student might not be his student for much longer. He waited until he saw the last sign, and he got it no less than two weeks later. Draco Malfoy had met and was utterly confounded and obsessed with the young soon-to-be-potions master. Words like doll-like, enchanting, and gentle were used in conjunction with callous, stony, and deadly in the missive, and Snape had sent a satisfyingly scathing and ultimately unhelpful reply back, and briefly considered a howler instead of the three foot long heated vituperate scrawled on plain parchment he did send off. He had no doubt that Draco learned that not even he was to interrupt his godfather at work.   
  
Very shortly after that highly therapeutic letter was sent off, he sent off to Voldemort the list of potions that needed to be sent off for his protégé to gain his formal mastery, along with several of the boy's thesis on various points of research and creation of new potions. He even had to admit the child was at times brilliant and would help to further innovate the oldest school of the magical arts. Just as he himself was hailed as the greatest potions master of his generation, the youth would win that title and deserve it. He was especially pleased when he received the owl from the guild's administrative council, it contained his student's formal documentation, the now formally published book form of his student's thesis, and personal letter from the eldest of the members of the guild who tested his potions and read his final thesis. The letter contained nothing but praises and wonder at the mind who came up with the ideas that the paper proposed, dissected, and supported.  
  
He made his way to the home of the upper and lower courts of Lord Voldemort in a good mood and was almost ready to make a spectacle of himself and his student. After all, with news like this there was not a shred of uncertainty that the Dark Lord would want it to be very public and very much a formal celebration in honor of the two potion masters, just as his own mastery was celebrated.  
  
And he was right, as soon as he informed Lord Voldemort the reason for his visit he was told not to tell the boy, and to be sure that he had impressive dress robes for a formal dinner the next evening. That day he took his old position at the Dark Lord's right, his student at the left, and he was very pleased to see that the court was still quailing in terror of him, and now his protégé.  
  
Before the dinner commenced he was astonished to see his student's new Dark Mark was identical to his own exceedingly unusual Mark. It was purely accidental, as the young man's robes had wide sleeves with equally wide cuffs, but there was no mistaking that the Dark Lord's personal signature, the mordesmore, was used instead of the skeletal serpent. He recalled Voldemort's words during his private marking, _this mark is one I will only use on those who I respect as equals, like you Severus. It shows that you are more than worthy to stand at my side, speak at your whim, and even kick me out of your labs like a child as you have already done. I do not fear you though, in fact I think I trust you above all others._'  
  
Severus Snape was touched by the sentiment but was devious enough to be the exact opposite of what Lord Voldemort thought of him as. He had started on this route as Albus Dumbledore's personal spy within the ranks of the Death Eaters, fast working his way into his apprenticeship and then his place as the Dark Lord's right hand.   
  
He appreciated the delightful irony of the mordesmore marks, both barers were infiltrators, one was the spy, the other was the assassin. And unlike the others, they would not suffer insanity or die during the Dark Lord's death, their marks had no ties to the living essence of Voldemort, they were only magical tattoos, and rather odd ones at that.  
  
Both smirked at each other as Snape's protégé realized his teacher had seen the mark. They both knew the prophesy forwards and backwards, and they both knew that the newest potion master would see the Dark Lord dead in no less than a week.

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Auror and Order of the Phoenix Member William Weasley picked his way through the corpse ridden fort that his team had prepared for months to decimate, all the dead were twisted as if they had died under great pain, the few who lived were drooling and chewing on their fingers, robe hems, or wands. In the center of it all was an ostentatious hall where two black clad figures were lounging on the steps up to the dais chatting amiably about potion theory. On the very top of the platform was the tortured and horror filled cadaver of the one who all feared to name sitting in his throne. Bill couldn't suppress the very un-mature squeak of surprise and terror. It caught the attention of the two potion masters and they gave him looks of icy indifference. He knew who they were, Professor Dumbledore's most trusted spies, Severus Snape and Harry Potter.  
  
End. 


	2. The Requested Epilogue

**Epilogue to Bringer Of Death  
  
Six Years After The Death Of Voldemort:**  
  
yelled a shrill voice in the silence of the early morning. The master of the house woke out of his light slumber on the sofa by the fireplace that the magic of the small manor house's house elves kept burning through the night for him. He strode briskly to his son's room, where the small child was sitting wide eyed looking like a startled rabbit in his immense bed. The house came with his title and so his little Cain was still not used to the large spaces and looming shadows. The small four room flat that they had lived in before the upheaval of the final trials, interrogations, and ceremonies to honor those that worked to end the British wizarding civil war. His formal mastery was still recognized and his income was already steady, especially since his old master and friend went to Hogwarts to teach general potions to the masses there.  
  
He climbed onto the bed with Cain and held the child who was in essence his clone (with more than a few mutations that were inevitable when creating life.) The dark haired four year old let out a great sigh of breath and hugged his father tightly and started to relay the awful bad dream. It was of a big puce and furry beast who was chasing the child. The monster shouted at Cain that the child would make a great dessert because in the dream he knew that the monster had already eaten his beloved father. The two sets of emerald eyes met each other as the child's father very seriously told him that no monster would ever eat him, he was a potions master and a daddy. Besides, he'd give the monster a stomach ache. Cain laughed at his daddy and hugged him using his father's robes to clear the tears away. Cain clung to him until he fell asleep again and his father eased him into the bed and under the covers. He smiled at his son and backed out of the room.  
  
He child had no mother, and to the chagrin of the few jokers he had the displeasure of knowing, the young potions master did in deed brew and create his son with the help of Severus, his fellow master and best friend. The government really didn't know how to classify the baby when the proud father-creater brought him forth. Now they just went with the simplest solution, they gave him the same documentation as a typical pure or half blooded kid. After all, he was credited by many with the final defeat of what they were now calling the Dark Side', no one wanted to anger him for fear of what he might do- lethal or bringing the mass media down on their heads. He had finished creating Cain four years and seventy-three days ago, and he knew he'd never regret it or want things to ever change. Well, other than losing the stupid title and the lands that they saddled him with.  
  
He was now the viscount of the mostly magical village of Godric's Hollow and the area surrounding it. Apparently it was a Potter thing, being the viscount and serving in the Ministry of Magic as part of the House of Sorcerers, another House of Parliament that the normal world had no idea existed and influenced their laws. It also infuriated the potions master to no end, he hated politics and he hated having to take time away from the two passions in his life to see to the needs of his people and Great Britain in general. As he was a Life Peer he was stuck, he couldn't even just send a proxy or something- though the people he asked might have heard doxie' instead of proxy'.  
  
The only house in the kingdom with more worries than the house of Potter was that of the Malfoys. The Marquis Lucius Malfoy, The Marquise Narcissa Malfoy, and the only heir to the title Lord Draco Malfoy were all unable to take the reins of their holdings and take their place in the House of Sorcerers. Each one victims to the death of Voldemort, each one with the skeletal serpent in the crook of their left arms. Lucius and Draco were both in complete control of the faculties of a toddler and the once lovely Narcissa was in a mass grave along with many others who died in utter pain and confusion. No one knew who was going to take the title, tracing the bloodline was growing harder and more disapparating every day, it seemed the Malfoys kept not only the title in the family and now the only possible heirs were squib, in the same position as the two Malfoy males, or dead. Of course, it wasn't the only house suffering from the deaths of the Death Eaters and the end effects of the war, but it was the one making headlines and it was the toughest to find an heir for.  
  
More than once in the mess that was now his life he was deeply jealous of Severus for being the grandchild of a third son, a fourth daughter, a second son, and a eighth daughter. The man was free of all political strings and could do what he wanted for the most part. The new viscount had to worry about media, the people of Godric's Hollow, and weaving his way through the political scenes of magical Great Britain. In the two years that he had been functioning as the viscount he had learned all he could on a number of topics that he never wanted to deal with in the first place. It was the reason why he now had a very select, skilled, and intelligent staff of advisors and diplomats. Each one was worth every galleon he put into their wages and they were all that stood between him and insanity. Not that it wasn't looking like a great option.  
  
Severus did help him cope, going from Voldemort's trusted left hand and potion apprentice to Severus Snape was a hard transition. He still found himself doing odd little things that only a Death Eater ever had to do and the mark was still there, mocking him. It symbolized all he had done to fulfill a prophesy that was, in the end, pointless. He hated the fact that the ghosts of his past still haunted him in his dreams, at one point it got so bad he went a week with three hours of sleep. He had found a counselor who's sister was a muggle-born witch to help him work through the problem after that event, and even now he tried to make time to see Dr. Emily Granger. The woman was always insightful and he usually came away with feelings of unease, but he and everyone who he worked with could see the changes for the better. Just a few weeks ago Severus even visited her after a very disturbing month of sleepless nights and jumpy days. He had to admit, he had been worried about the stubborn man and was pleased to see him doing something about the hellish world where they were high ranking demons.  
  
He settled down at his desk, to look at the notes and plans for the coming day. Everything in his life was planned now with the singular exception of his son. It was depressing at times, especially when he opened up the Wizarding Herald, a new newspaper to fill the void left by the forgotten Daily Prophet, and saw a new potion breakthrough or a radical treatment for an age old health issue. He was supposed to be the one behind a cauldron finding the way to a better life, not the no talent idiots who breezed out of the universities and schools like mass produced Pepper-Up. Severus even said he hated seeing the mistakes and assumptions the new breed of potion makers committed. Most looked at the fine and subtle art like muggles did their sciences, they didn't learn about the balancing of magics, interdisplanary bridges in theory, and the interdependence and immense implications of the sacred rule of thirds. He tried to shove the bitter thoughts out of his mind as he picked up the newest letter from Severus.  
  
_Harry,  
Kill me now. Please. I'm deadly serious, you whelp.  
It has been determined that I am the closest relative to the Malfoys who is able to take up the marquiship. By the sun's rise it should be all over the wireless and the papers that I am leaving my post at Hogwarts for White Stone Manor and taking up the roll that has been left' to me.  
How in the name of all that is holy did we end up like this?   
I'm going to need your help to get settled and help get the area back in shape. The last three generation of Malfoys did not take care of their lands and people in Dover at all. Right now I'm packing my things and helping McGonagall with the turnover of my position to the idiot replacing me. Luckily, we were waiting until next year for me to take up the mantle of Head of Slytherin House, so that's one less charge for me to give the foolish girl. Besides, the brat was a Gryffindor in school and having her as the one on charge of the house that she spent seven years in school hating would be pure insanity. I hope the students make her want to run away crying. She's been nothing but arrogant and utterly sure that she will not only be able to teach my revised curriculum, but will do better than I ever could.   
Please tell me why I can't curse the classroom to make her career hellish as a trip to the London branch of the Ministry.  
I hope this finds you and Cain in good spirits. Lord knows one of us deserves to be in a good mood today, and since I'm going to be fuming for the next ten years, it falls to you, my dear friend. Tell Cain that I'm going to try to visit as soon as I can and do not read him this letter- even if I know you will anyhow. You are surpassingly infuriating, at times. That last letter had more exslpisitives than I knew existed, your vocabulary certainly has come along way since your youth. Whether or not it's a good thing remains to be seen. But dear Lord, I do hope your darling son doesn't hear you during a tirade anytime soon.   
As the new Marquis of Augurey Heights, I'm going to request you attend this stupid gala that apparently is tradition for every new Lord of White Stone Manor. You don't know how lucky you got that the Potter family has never had any real traditions other than breaking traditions. And to make it that much worse, I'm torn between hate and respect for the previous Malfoys for putting up with the fatuous farce among other things. Come, I will need intelligent conversation or I will not be held responsible for my actions. Bring Cain too, the kid will get a kick out of all the pageantry and ritualistic offering of me on the alter of outdated political ideologies.   
I'm already wishing that I had vanished an become a highly aggressive hermit.  
  
SS.  
_  
He laughed as he read the letter again and knew that fate really did like a good joke as much as the next person.


End file.
